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Today would have been my Grandma Ree's 84th birthday. I've never missed anyone more. But, instead of trying to describe how that feels, I'm sharing a few passages that can speak for me. I'm reminded of her (and everyone else I love) in so much of what I read.

From "A Christmas Memory" by Truman Capote:

And when that happens, I know it. A message saying so merely confirms a piece of news some secret vein had already received, severing from me an irreplaceable part of myself, letting it loose like a kite on a broken string. That is why, walking across a school campus on this particular December morning, I keep searching the sky. As if I expected to see, rather like hearts, a lost pair of kites hurrying toward heaven.

From "Neighbour Rosicky" by Willa Cather:

She had a sudden feeling that nobody in the whole world, not her mother, not Rudolph, or anyone, really loved her as much as old Rosicky did. It perplexed her. She sat frowning and trying to puzzle it out. It was as if Rosicky had a special gift for loving people, something that was like an ear for music or an eye for colour. It was quiet, unobtrusive; it was merely there. You saw it in his eyes, --perhaps that was why they were merry. You felt it in his hands, too.

From "Ashes" by David Sedaris:

You can't brace yourself for famine if you've never known hunger; it is foolish even to try. The most you can do is eat up while you still can, stuffing yourself, shoveling it in with both hands and licking clean the plates, recalling every course in vivid detail.